A Golden Fire
by TaiganB
Summary: Being summoned after a restful 200 years in The Other Place means Spelevis is just a little bit peeved. As if things can't get any worse, his master charges him with an almost impossible task. But in a London where magic governs all, anything is possible.
1. Chapter 1: Spelevis

_OK. This is my very first post. Please feel free to criticize. I'll appreciate all the feedback. Oh, almost forgot! Disclaimer: I don't own The Bartimaeus Trilogy, Jonathan Stroud does __…_

I felt that familiar sticky feeling in my stomach (or at least the place where my stomach would have been). No! Why did this have to happen now? I was just starting to relax. Just leave me in peace, for heaven's sake!

Why do humans have so many issues? Why do we have to be the ones to solve them? *1

I felt the warmth of the magic's static tentacles as they coiled around me, like a sadistic snake. I fought back but it was to no avail. The wrapping tentacles flexed, as if jesting with me; playing with my emotions. I gave up resisting. What was the point? I was at mercy to the summoning.

Life can be very frustrating (especially when it lasts for thousands of years)!

The tugging feeling came next; the sensation that something inside of me was being jerked from side to side. I used to feel nauseous, but now, I'm used to it. It's too bad; I used to enjoy chucking up on my masters. Sometimes, they would step out of their precious chalk pentacles. That was good, after emptying my stomach all over them; I had to have something to fill it back up.

And then I was gone, disappeared, poof.

I decided to take the form of a sleek, snow-white cat. Why? Well, because I felt like it. Cats are nice… *2

Once I appeared in the circumspectly drawn chalk circle, I sat innocently, wagged my tail and looked up at my new master with wide, eyes. I've heard that some animals can easily influence humans. All they have to do is look cute. It's simple really. After doing this, the naive humans adopt them as "pets". What does this mean for the animals? Free food. Lots of it…

Standing before me was a tall man in long, dark robes that cascaded to the floor. His hair was jet-black, ruffled and thick. His eyes were a piercing emerald green. He stood with his chin slightly raised upwards. Yuhp, just another puffed-up magician…

This was the time when I had to recite my well-rehearsed speech. I tried to muster as much enthusiasm as I could before starting. It wasn't very much, I can tell you that. I opened my cat mouth and, after meowing a greeting, I began:

"I am Spelevis! I am a Djinni born of fire. I am the Builder and Destroyer of the Great City of Maraveil in Arabia; I am the Demolisher of the Egyptian rule. I am the Spy, Assassin and Traitor to Justinian, the Great Ruler of the Byzantine Empire. I am an Arsonist, Healer and Murderer. I, djinni born of fire, am at your service." *3

I bowed respectfully to the magician, feeling like an absolute fool. To top it all off, I felt an itch just far enough behind my ears so that I couldn't reach it. Fleas! I realized that I really needed a new job. Something that doesn't involve me bowing like a slave to everyone that summons me. I've always wanted to drive an ice-cream truck. The music can be quite soothing. And ice-cream truck drivers don't get fleas, well, at least most of them don't.

"Maraveil?" said the Magician, "I've never heard of that city before."

"Exactly. Now what is your charge, O powerful Enchanter?" I was really sucking-up now. Maybe if I did I could just get everything over with...

Who was I kidding? Summoning a mid-level djinni like me meant that the magician had quite a few plans in mind. If it were something simpler, he would have summoned one of those ridiculous imps or foliots. They don't have any standards.

The room I was in was very ordinary. When I say "ordinary" I imply ordinary for a magician.

Firstly, it was bleak. The air was stale and musty. The room had an ancient feel to it. *4 I glanced around the pentacle, taking everything in. Stacked on shelves were thousands of vials containing substances of every colour you could imagine. A few of them contained eyeballs in them. Some were filled with hair. One was even labeled "Salamander droppings". Yuck!

It reminded me of those ancient kitchens back in Egypt. That was before I burned them all down, though.

The magician opened his mouth to speak again. Needless to say, I was simply overjoyed. *5

"I, Clark Bell, charge you with the task," he proclaimed, "of destroying the djinni, born of fire, Bartimaeus!"

Oh no, this wasn't going to end well...

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*1 I'll tell you why: because all humans are helpless fools…

*2 Please don't look at me like that…

*3 Quite impressive, no? No need for applause, but thank you!

*4 I don't mean this in a positive way. Maybe the magician summoned me for decorating tips? He certainly needed them.

*5 That was sarcasm there, just incase you didn't catch on…

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	2. Chapter 2: Clark Bell

_OK. This is my second post! Please feel free to criticize. I'll appreciate all the feedback. Thanks for reading, everyone._

_Disclaimer: I don't own The Bartimaeus Trilogy, Jonathan Stroud does __…_

The cat sat, looking incredulously at Clark Bell. It didn't speak. It didn't blink. It didn't even meow. I decided to give it a chance to process what I had said. After all, my charge wasn't a simple one. If it were, I would have summoned one of those feeble imps. The cat remained flabbergasted and I was losing patience.

"Well?" I said expectantly, tapping my feet impatiently. Maybe I had made a mistake with the summoning. This djinni didn't seem very capable of much. I thought they were supposed to be intelligent creatures…

"Well! You are- and I can't! Well What?" it stuttered. The cat ceased to be a cat. The tail first began to disintegrate into tiny grains of golden sand. They collected in a hill before suddenly shifting, as if by an imaginary breeze, and forming into a little girl, with dirty-blond hair and hands full of shopping bags. Why had the djinni chosen this form?

"You expect me to murder a djini?" it said in disbelief, "You've got to be joking! Do you even know what the consequences of murdering a fellow djinni are? Haven't you been paying attention to the news lately? Besides, Bartimaeus is dead."

It shifted again. This time, it transformed into a man. He was quite tall and had short brown hair. The look in its shady eyes, however, was alien. Dangling around his neck was a stethoscope. With his arm, he held up a short thermometer and beckoned for my attention with it.

"You must be ill," the doctor reasoned, "let me take your temperature."

I shook my head in disapproval.

"If you can't hold it in your mouth," the doctor said, "I'll have to-"

I had had enough. It was time to get serious.

"No, Spelevis, djinni born of fire. You will do as I say! By the end of the month, I expect Bartimaeus to be dead. Go to Kathleen Jones. Do not reveal your true identity. There, you will find the truth. Do you understand me, demon?"

I tried speaking with dominance and authority. I was taught magicians are models of strength and dexterity. The ability to perform magic isn't what sets us apart. Every country, every community and every person needs a leader. That's what magicians are: leaders.

The djinni would be useless to me if it cowered away at the challenge I presented it with.

"_There is no point in having a weak slave, Clark."_

I decided if it resisted any further, I would use the Red-Hot Stipples to prod it to do my bidding. I recalled the incantation in my mind. It was at the tip of my tongue, like a panther, waiting to pounce.

"_Never show sympathy."_

"I understand, my master," it said sullenly.

To my surprise, the djinni seemed to have accepted its fate. It no longer shape-shifted and jested. Good. The Red-Hot Stipples can be quite an energy-draining spell if I had to continually cast it. My muscles relaxed a little.

"You are at liberty to fulfill your commands. I expect a report every other night on your progress. Be warned demon, if you attempt trickery, you will be punished severely."

The doctor nodded his head in understanding. Then, he began to fade and diffuse into a wispy mist. The fog then drifted across the room, leaving droplets of water on the furniture as it hovered by. I felt the coldness of the djinni's touch. My spine shivered. It drifted through the cracks of the window and was gone.

London bathed in bright splashes of sunlight. What a waste. London rarely had such wonderful days. I had to spend it inside while Spelevis roamed free. I turned to the desk behind me, sighed and took a seat. The summoning left me light-headed.

I glanced at the tarnished Ring on the desk. It appeared to glare back at me.

This had to work.

I felt a sudden pang of envy for that stupid djinni. It had more freedom than I ever did.


	3. Chapter 3: Spelevis

_**Hey guys. This is my third post. I hope everyone enjoys it. Once again, all comments are welcome. I also want to thank conception **__**for reviewing my first 2 chapters. The advice has been helpful and has encouraged me to think through the rest of the story (which, hopefully, will prevent any writer's block). You also convinced me that people were actually reading this… So thanks loads, I appreciate it. Also: Disclaimer, Bartimaeus n'est pas pour moi… Anyways, here we go!**_

The djinni soared out into the sky. His mind was buzzing with thoughts about what had just happened.

He felt the cool London air lap against his face (but he smelt it too, and shriveled his face in contempt). The London he was familiar with was cleaner and not as intimidating. But he wasn't an idiot. There was nothing fearful about towers of concrete.

He worried about the future. His master appeared ignorant about recent news. Even Spelevis, who was at The Other Place when the discovery was made, was aware of the recently uncovered consequences that came with murdering djinn. He sighed. A charge was a charge. He was trapped.

Then there was Bartimaeus, the djinni who had recently died. Clark Bell believed otherwise, though. He either knew something the world didn't, or was an idiot. Spelevis agreed with the latter.

Kathleen Jones. His master told him to find Kathleen Jones. He wondered what kind of Tracing magic he should use to locate her. Something quick and low-key was needed. He could conjure a Chercher Globe (*1), hire a troop of Foliots to locate her (*2), or maybe he could fly around the city calling her name…

He was stuck. London was swarming with millions of people, how was he supposed to track down this "Kathleen Jones"? It was in that moment that Spelevis decided he had to resort to a tactic he never used before. Something that gave him goose bumps thinking about…

He continued, as swirling mist in the wind, until he spotted his target below him. He started to slowly descend but quickly realized it wasn't safe to do so. A large bustling crowd was directly beneath him. He had to change form into something less conspicuous. He also had to be more careful next time.

So he landed in a nearby alley.

The first thing he did was tut at the plastic bags, glass and cigarettes that blanketed the floor.

"Dirty humans," he muttered to himself.

Then he transformed into a man with wavy, chestnut hair that reached down to his shoulders. He also constructed dark eyes and a pale face. Spelevis had met this man a few hundred years previously in London (but Spelevis made sure he ditched the tunic and tights that were present then). Surely the man wouldn't be remembered now; he was just a poet after all. Though he did write a play about two children from feuding families that fell in love. Spelevis disapproved greatly of the play. It was just too… insignificant. He couldn't predict success in the man's future. As hard as Spelevis tried, however, he couldn't recall his name *3.

No matter. Dressed in ripped jeans (at first he was reluctant to wear the rags that were so popular these days) and a dark shirt, he emerged from the alley.

Now was the tough part. He moved cautiously to the large red rectangle. The humans strode past it, acting as if it wasn't even there. It glowered down at him. After noticing that it was currently unoccupied, he stepped inside. He felt the draining sensation from his essence and tried not to panic. With slow deep breaths, he was able to locate the thick book on a stand beneath a shiny metal contraption that was connected to a larger metal box. He shuddered. Still, this was the only way.

He lifted the book in his arms. It was bulky. The cover, worn down after being handled by thousands of fingers, was covered in dirt smudges and heaven knows what else. Spelevis couldn't believe the lack of hygiene the humans possessed. In a way, he felt sorry for them.

He shook himself to regain his attention. He shouldn't have wasted so much time. Using a handkerchief he pulled out of his pocket, he delicately flipped through the contents of the book until he found what he was looking for:

_Kathleen Jones: Antiques_

_Telephone: 020 74237892_

_372 Edgware Road, London. W2 1EB_

Suddenly he jumped out of the blood-red prison, breathing heavily. After spending only a few minutes inside, his skin was ice-cold and his head was spinning. He committed the address to memory. A few people were staring inquisitively at him.

"What?"

They quickly turned away. They were just commoners so he was sure they couldn't observe his true form. He pocketed the handkerchief (convinced he would need it later) and was gone. Now he knew where Kathleen Jones was.

But he couldn't relax. Already, he had been exposed to horrifying metal cages and bacteria-covered books. He couldn't bear to think about what was next for him.

Boy, this djinni was in for a shocker.

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*1 These are magical globes, invented by the French, which can be used to locate specific individuals, places and things. Unfortunately, they were slow, could easily be destroyed and only worked on the first plane. Besides, they were so _last century_ anyway.

*2 Oh wait! Djinni couldn't summon foliots! Still, he could find a few on the streets (London was over-flowing with these little magical creatures). Once he found one, he would "ask" it to help him. In other words, he would turn into a Leopard, corner the imp in an alleyway, flash his razor-sharp teeth and then, given the imp was trembling uncontrollably, he would order it to aid him. This would be fun, but would hardly be the fastest method.

*3 Can you?

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	4. Chapter 4: Clark Bell

**Fourth post here! Before I forget, Disclaimer: Jonathan Stroud owns this trilogy, not me. Also, I want to thank Conception again as well as Narni-nick. If it weren't for you both, I probably wouldn't be motivated to continue writing. Thanks again. Ready now? Then Let's begin…**

Clark Bell sat in his study. Darkness engulfed the room but he did not stir. He was too busy thinking, planning, worrying and praying that nothing would go wrong. He couldn't take any risks.

The ring remained unmoved. It was rather dull and tarnished, but somehow was conspicuous to the eyes. It was as if a magnetic force drew Clark's gaze towards it. Every time he laid eyes on it, he remembered the events that brought the ring into his possession. He remembered it with a sick feeling in his stomach.

He had traveled with his master to Arabia three years ago. News reports emerged stating that the separate Arab nations were banding together to form a new, formidable empire. The British government sent Magicians to engage in peace talks with the region's powers. This wasn't the only reason the Magicians were sent, however. They were also ordered to spy on the potential enemy's advancements in weapon technology (particularly technology relating to the summoning of djinn) and to report back to the ministry. This would prevent any surprises occurring. Clark Bell joined his master on his voyage to Arabia. It was one that changed his life forever.

A swirling heat suddenly materialized. It lifted thousands of grains of sand metres into the air, and thrust the particles powerfully at any intruders to the desert. Unfortunately, on that day, Clark bell and his master were the intruders.

The scorching sun beat down upon them. His lips were parched and beads of sweat collected on his forehead. They both wore light scarves around their heads to shelter them from the sun's intense rays. It didn't seem to be working, however, and no matter how many cups of water Clark gulped down, his thirst couldn't be quenched.

"Enchantments," his master explained, "to keep strangers away from the deserts."

"Sir?" began Clark. His master nodded his head as a way of giving him permission to speak. "Why would they want to keep strangers away from the deserts? There's nothing here."

His master gave him a thoughtful look. Then he smiled.

"I always told you, Clark, that nothing is what it seems. Rest assured, you will witness the treasures that this desert protects. That is why we ventured down here, after all." His voice was heavy and majestic, resembling that of a lion.

Clark felt his stomach lurch with excitement. They continued walking through the haze. It felt like the desert would never end. It stretched for miles and miles, and ended only at the horizon. The sight made Clark nauseous.

"_Septoria_," his master called after what felt like hours, "it's time."

A dark scorpion, which had been following the duo, suddenly transformed. The djinni took the form of a woman, with long fair hair. Her face was beautiful yet solemn. It was a face that told you she was in control. She was dressed in long, white robes. Clark thought they looked like curtains, but refrained from mentioning anything. He didn't want to get on Septoria's bad side.

"Master," she said, "I can feel a presence. Something dangerous is very near."

"Good," he replied, "That's what we're looking for."

Clark, although desperately needing some answers, decided to stay quiet. Things were getting serious. Something precarious was near but his master trusted him enough to bring him along. The last thing he wanted was to get in the way. He stood still and watched.

His master pulled out a scruffy piece of parchment. He unfolded it and read. Then he looked up at the sky, pointing to the sun. While keeping his fingers raised upwards, he took a few steps forward, then to the side, then a couple backwards. Septoria and Clark watched him in silence. For a few minutes, Clark's master continued with these movements until suddenly he stopped dead in his tracks. He looked at Clark and Septoria then nodded his head.

"I will now read the Incantation of Entry," he announced, "Once I do, the entrance to the Hollow will appear. You must both stay behind me at all times. Do not touch anything. Keep your eyes open."

"Yes sir," Clark said.

His master began to chant the incantation. The wind had died down. Now, only is words echoed in the silent desert. Once he finished reciting the spell, nothing happened. Did he make a mistake?

But suddenly Clark felt the tremor. It happened a second time, then a third. Soon, it was continuous, and he could sense it constantly beneath his feet.

It felt similar to an earthquake but the vibrating was much more distinct. The sand dunes disappeared. The grains, however, were in constant motion. They hopped up and down and fizzed from side to side. Not unlike the effect that you get when pouring soda into a glass.

Then the floor began to descend directly in front of Clark's master. It went deeper and deeper, until it was low enough for a man to stand inside. After this, the ruckus abruptly halted. The world was as quiet as a graveyard. The hole was big enough to fit all three of them in.

Clark was confused. What were they supposed to do now?

His master spoke: "Let us proceed."

He stepped cautiously into the hole and beckoned for Septoria and Clark to join him. Once they were all in, a puzzled look appeared on his face.

"The map doesn't say what to do next," he said, almost to himself.

Septoria spoke next: "I don't think this can be very safe. I don't trust the magic here. It feels… acidic."

"Maybe-" Clark began to say. He couldn't finish.

A wave of dirt surrounding the hole began to surge backwards; on top of them. It fell, scratching their arms and legs. It twisted around their ankles, like a whirlpool, pulling them deeper and deeper. Clark felt the suction of the sand. He tried to pull free but it was too potent. He yelled in panic.

"Give me your hand, Clark!" his master commanded. Clark noticed an uncertainty in his master's tone. He had never heard that before. Nevertheless, he thrust one hand out to his master, and the other to Septoria, who gripped it tightly. He also noticed the fear glinting in her eyes. Something horrible was going to happen.

The sand was soon up to their waists. There was no way they could climb out; the surface was already above their heads. He called out in pain. The ground was ripping at his skin, devouring him. The unmerciful sun had disappeared. Slowly, but surely, his vision blurred. He looked at his master and Septoria apprehensively. They looked back. The sand was almost up to Clark's eyes and then-

Darkness.


	5. Chapter 5: Kitty Jones

**OK guys. Here is the 5****th**** post (I really don't know why I'm counting my posts…) Anyways, I think this was the hardest to write. I don't know why, though. Hopefully you will all enjoy it! Please review and tell me what you think! Thank you for those who have been constantly reviewing my chapters (pretty much just Conception lol). Don't be shy, I don't bite!**

Kitty was surrounded; trapped like an animal in a cage. She felt the searing heat of a hundred eyes bore into her mind. They were watching her, but they didn't know that she was watching back. She took slow, deep breaths; attempting to calm herself down. She felt the adrenaline rushing through her veins. She was ready to attack; ready to strike. All she needed was one warning; one twitch indicating something was out of line. Then she would pounce and-

"How much is this, miss?" came a voice from behind the counter. Kitty was abruptly jerked out of her trance. She leaned over the desk to find a little boy, with blue eyes and blond hair. She suddenly felt guilty for thinking of karate chopping a little kid. He held up a scrying glass to her. If he only knew the power it contained. It was probably worth hundreds of pounds.

"Twenty quid," she said, smiling awkwardly. The kid turned, raced back to his mother and begged her to buy the scrying glass. She smiled at him warmly, and asked whether he would prefer getting an ice cream. To this, he tossed the scrying glass back on a shelf and practically dragged his mother out of the shop. Kitty smiled to herself. Such innocence was rarely found nowadays.

Kitty sighed. Is this how she was supposed to spend the rest of her days? Behind a counter selling the remaining stolen goods of the resistance? She did prefer it to the publicity that never ceased since the incident three years ago, though. No, at least she was peaceful now. That was something. Besides, it beat working in one of those miniature cubicles at the ministry. Those made her feel claustrophobic. She preferred the shabbiness of her antique shop. It felt like home (although her mother would have never stood for the mess).

A bell sounded throughout the room. The sensation that the room was shrinking surfaced. This made her perspire. She didn't know why, but she felt the need to break free; out of this stuffy room and into some fresh air. She decided to go to the back of the shop. There was a sink there, she could wash her face and get her mind off things. No one told her life was going to be this difficult. Even after she fought the devious magicians and succeeded in ridding London of their oppressive rule, there was still pain, woe and suffering.

The memories never faded. Instead, they took refuge in her dreams and consumed her in her sleep.

The memories never faded.

_A blazing conflagration erupted in the sky. The flickering golden glow enveloped the world and reflected in the eyes of millions of watchers; children, parents, brothers, sisters and friends. It was almost beautiful. Fear didn't have time to infest their minds. The mighty inferno twisted in the sky; a warping anger; a whirlwind of heat and energy that swallowed the clouds in an instant. A hissing sound reverberated. A warning to all of what was coming…_

Kitty fell to the floor of the shop. It was as if the ground suddenly rose up to meet her. It slapped her in the face. She planned to get it back later.

The beating of a drum.

Her vision cleared up but her heart continued to throb painfully in her chest. She couldn't breath. Panic took control of her body. Her legs and arms went numb and her face turned red. An agonizing sensation grew in her disabled lungs. Still she couldn't breath!

Was this how she was meant to die?

A face came close to hers. It was the face of a young, Egyptian boy.

"No!" he commanded. His voice was unyielding. There was no terror. There was just the domination of his words. They echoed in the back of her mind.

She blacked out. There was silence. This was something she was grateful for. She could feel the presence of her body, but didn't have the energy to effect action. But it was blissful.

"Are you OK, Miss?"

Her eyes fluttered open. A man stood before her. The rest of the shop was empty. What time was it? The thought that she had forgotten something cooking in the oven came to her. She brushed it away. There wasn't even an oven in the shop! The man bent down and offered a hand to help her up. The feeling in her arms and legs emerged. It was ice-cold but she couldn't even shiver.

At first she decided she would hate the man for waking her from her slumber. But she soon changed her mind.

His eyes were a warm maroon. She couldn't stop staring at them. They made her feel nostalgic, although she was certain she had never known them before. His hand came closer to hers. She felt the heat of his touch.

"Shall I call the ambulance?" he asked.

She shook her head. No. The last thing she wished for was more attention.


	6. Chapter 6: Kitty Jones

**OK, this is the sixth chapter. Once again, I have to thank Conception and Nari for constantly reviewing my story; you've been a constant motivation. I also think it's worth mentioning that Conception's "Restless Spirit" is probably the best fanfic I've read. I have a feeling I'll also be addicted to your next fanfic. Readers of "A Golden Fire", don't fret, I'll post the next chapter soon, so you won't have to wait long for it. OK, I'm ready, so I'll begin…**

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She felt the energy of the mug in her hands. The heat spread through her arms and then to the rest of her body. It wasn't long before she was revived. Still, she was uneasy. Nothing like that ever happened to her before. Even after much thought, she couldn't come to any conclusion as to what happened. Had she had a fit? Was she ill, or was it some kind of haunting magic? She could still envision the fire before her very eyes; still sense the scorching heat. Only one thing was clear: someone, somewhere, was planning something; something that had "trouble" written all over it. It was either this, or she was going crazy.

Little did she know that death was already lurking nearby.

The man came to sit back down on a stool before her. He looked at her right in the eye. There was no hesitation, no faltering. His gaze was sharp, like that of an eagle. She returned it, but her eyes immediately started to water.

"Thanks," she said, "for helping me."

"It's no problem," he responded, still gazing right at her.

"OK, what the heck is wrong with you? Why do you keep staring at me like that?"

He turned away and blushed. It was the first time she had seen him display an emotion that told her he wasn't a robot. She sighed in relief. She couldn't count how many times she had to be cautious around strangers. It was like the world was conspiring against her. However, this man seemed to be a friend. Good, now she only had to figure out how to get rid of him.

"So," she said, "I'm going to close down the shop, so if you will…"

"You could just say you want me to go away," he said plainly, grinning at her.

"Oh. No, I-" she began to say. She realized she might have come off as rude. Still, she wasn't in any mood to socialize. She glanced about the room, hoping she could find something else to talk about. The shop looked different, somehow, as if she was seeing it in a photograph. A strange silence flooded the room. Everything seemed sharper in the surging darkness. The sullen atmosphere did nothing for her attitude.

The man seemed to notice her anxiety, for he said, "No worries, I'll get out of your way. I hope you feel better soon." He stood up from his stool and held his hand out to shake. "It's been nice meeting your acquaintance." She shook it firmly.

He turned to leave but Kitty grabbed his hand as if by reflex.

"No, wait. You haven't told me your name."

"Why? Do you want to know my name?" he said, grinning again. His smile stretched from ear to ear, revealing a set of pearl-white teeth.

"Are you always this cheerful?" she asked. His jaunty behavior was something Kitty hadn't witnessed in a person for a while. Her thoughts fell back to her childhood and to Jakob. She felt melancholy. She yearned for the days when all she had to think about was doing her homework. A sick feeling settled in her stomach. Those days were irretrievable, now there was only the somber future. She sighed.

"Drake," he said.

With that he left the shop and entered the vastness of the night. The bell rang behind him and his footsteps died away. Kitty felt like she had just lost a friend but realized she was being ridiculous. She had barely known the guy for more than ten minutes.

Kitty remained on the stool. She yawned so much that she thought she might have dislocated her jaw. It was time to call it a day. She closed the shop and stepped out into the night. The cold lapped against her bare skin, stroking it, as if trying to sooth her. She didn't want to feel alone. She needed someone to confide in; someone that would listen to her troubles; someone to mock her worries until she felt stupid for wasting her time with them.

She needed Bartimaeus.

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**Please don't forget to comment you guys!**


	7. Chapter 7: Clark Bell

**Here is the next post! Enjoy guys, thanks Nari, Cocoacharm, RenWrites and Conception for reviewing! I really appreciate the effort you put while commenting on A Golden Fire. I hope you're still reading!**

Darkness.

Drip.

A breath. A heartbeat.

Drip.

A tickling on his face.

"Clark," came a whisper from the darkness.

Images of horrible monsters flashed through Clark's mind. Golems, Basalisks and Merantulas: all of them revealing their razor-sharp teeth, watching him hungrily with their dark, alien eyes. They haunted his dreams and provoked a heavy, acidic feeling in his stomach. It was during this abrupt frenzy that Clark flickered his eyes open. A sudden rush of cool, humid air filled his lungs; indicating he was no longer in the desert. A friendly face looked down empathetically at him.

"Clark, it's OK. We've survived and we made it into the Hollow."

He looked from side to side. The stalactites above him reached down menacingly, resembling the things he had seen only in nightmares. Drops of cool water plummeted through the air and landed on his face. The sensation was soothing. Glowing objects hovered silently above him, casting their ghostly glow on the grotto. They were unmoving, but somehow, Clark knew they were aware of his presence. He soon realized he was lying on a precipice and the feeling of vertigo immediately consumed him. He struggled to move his body.

After much effort, he managed to stand up, and with wobbly legs, looked over the edge of the rock face. The water at the bottom was dark: concealing the floor of the lagoon, and whatever hid beneath the surface.

"This is our destination," explained his master, "We've journeyed hundreds of miles to get here. I'm afraid the most dangerous part of the voyage is yet to come."

His master's words were right, as Clark was soon to find out. He spotted Septoria up ahead. She stood, voiceless and observing. Clark could feel her intensity; she was still disconcerted.

"We're not the first," she announced.

Clark started to move towards her but realized he did not yet possess the strength, and suddenly found himself on the ground again, this time, too close to the cliff edge. His master grabbed him firmly and he blushed in embarrassment. How long would he have to be a burden? His master didn't acknowledge Clark's clumsiness, or rather; he chose to see past it.

"Caution, Clark. We cannot afford mistakes now."

Together they made their way towards Septoria, and then they understood what she had meant.

The grotto extended a fair distance onwards; traversable in about ten minutes. The floor before them sloped downwards until it leveled out with the water. From what they could see, the lagoon on this side of the crag was only knee deep. Good, that ruled out the danger of drowning. The glow of the orbs above them sparkled in water's glassy surface, which appeared almost inviting. At the far end of the plain was a golden glow; the prize they were seeking. They would reach it, or die trying.

A figure emerged from the depths of the lagoon, Clark gasped in fear. Septoria and his master readied themselves for a fight; but their enemy was already dead. It was a skull. In fact, when they looked closer, they found hundreds of bones drifting serenely in the water, grinning maliciously up at the travelers.

"How are we to cross?" Clark asked.

"We walk of course," answered Septoria. Clark somehow knew that was coming and sighed impatiently.

His master took the lead, and cautiously descended the slope towards the water. Clark and Septoria followed suit. It wasn't long before a groping chill enveloped them. Clark didn't even want to think about going into the water.

"Stick together," his master said, eying Clark in particular "we don't want another mishap separating us." Clark gulped, agreeing with his master. He most certainly didn't want that!

His master dipped one leg into the lagoon, sending disturbing ripples over the water's placid plane. Next went the second leg and before Clark realized, his master was already meters away, sloshing through the water and pushing away the carcasses that seemed to be swarming around him. Septoria transformed into a bird, and soared above the water, keeping a watchful eye on her master. Water wasn't good for her essence; it was too… wet.

Clark, full of envy, watched her dash towards the Golden Glow. He wished he could have done the same and avoided entering the lagoon. With another sigh, he set out after his master.

The water was ice-cold. As soon he stepped into it, he felt the blood rush to his legs. This left him capricious. He inhaled the cool air, hoping to calm himself and regain control over his body. Without wasting any more time, he stomped through the lagoon towards his master.

He heard the frenetic pumping of his heart but paid no attention to it.

Pump. Pump.

A numbness took over his legs, causing him to stumble forward; the water's deathly surface drew closer to his face; ready to absorb his energy.

Pump. Pump.

He wondered what time it was? Surely it was night; after all, it was so dark. He felt proud that he was able to produce such solid logic.

Pump. Pump

The fact that he was underground somehow seemed trivial to his reasoning. The water looked so peaceful, and he needed the rest. Maybe if he were to lie down…

A hand reached forward and slapped his face; jerking him awake.

"Ouch!" Clark lamented. He followed the hand as it pulled away to discover his master's stern face. Then he glanced dumbly at his surroundings, they suddenly felt real; sharper than they did seconds ago. He felt stupid for almost falling asleep.

"Stay focused,"

They drove onwards until they were close enough to clearly see what had caused the powerful golden radiance. Septoria, after having already landed, eyed them as they stepped out of the water. Clark shook himself vigorously, sending freezing drops everywhere. She muttered a complaint.

"There's no need to resort to animalistic behaviour…"

The scene was wondrous. Piles of gold and jewels, stacked on either side of them, created a narrow path that led to a pinnacle. There, they found a stand. Upon this stand, was a small, discolored ring. It was plain, very plain; in fact, there was nothing extraordinary about it! Yet, this was what Clark's master focused his unmoving gaze on. Clark felt the need to do otherwise: he gawked, open-mouthed at the thousands of glittering gems about him. They glowed like diamonds in the night sky; each emitting it's own dominant glow; each a natural phenomenon.

"Remember my orders," Clark's master said, "don't touch anything."

He circled around the stand. A grin crept onto his face.

"It's here," he whispered, almost to himself.

"What's so special about that!" said Clark, "Look around you!"

"Power," replied Septoria, "Power that you couldn't even dream of possessing. It's all right here: the ring is the key to unleash it."

There was a moment of seriousness. Clark took in what Septoria had said. Power: the kind people murder for; the kind that nations strive to gain. This ring was too dangerous, they were better off with it destroyed. Clark was just about to say these exact words when his master, with wide, hungry eyes, moved towards the ring, and picked it off its stand.

Septoria held her head in shame.

"You don't know what you've just done," she said to her master.

The glowing orbs above vibrated vigorously.

The water stirred. With a mind of it's own, it rose and fell; as if it were breathing. Waves formed, stirring the bones, moving them; organizing them; connecting them. All the while, Clark, his master and Septoria observed speechlessly. Whole figures started to emerge; constructed from the limbs and supported by the water's lively veins.

The skulls were devoid of flesh, skin, or muscle. Yet Clark, quivering in alarm, knew that they were smiling.

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	8. Chapter 8: Bartimaeus

**OK, next post here! It's slightly shorter but I promise to update soon. Thanks Conception, cocoacharm and RenWrites for reviewing my last chapter! I appreciate all the feedback you give! Right, on with the story:**

There really isn't anything better than a long stay in The Other Place after fulfilling a particularly arduous charge. I sighed impatiently at the approaching static tentacles then turned away casually, hoping the probing beings wouldn't take notice of me. Sadly, I never had such luck.

And so I let it lead me away from The Other Place. I went quietly, might as well get things over with, right? I wondered what incompetent magician decided to summon me now. Perhaps they didn't comprehend the fact that I was supposed to be dead. Well, it was to be expected of such a simple race *1.

The warmth of The Other place began to fade away. I felt that familiar drain on my essence as I entered the human's realm. I wondered what form would be the most appropriate to take. At first I thought a gnat would be a good idea; the magician probably wouldn't notice me, then I would be free from whatever insignificant charges it had in mind. However, I decided against this, a more conspicuous approach is always entertaining, especially with inexperienced magicians *2.

So I took the form of a Merantula, a giant arachnid with dark, alien eyes, thick hairy legs and a menacing, profuse pink-fur covering *3.

I was just about to screech malevolently when I saw her face. It was Kitty, and she was crying. I quickly changed into Ptolemy, hoping I hadn't scared her. Her eyes were bloodshot, her usual wavy hair scruffy, her confident aura vanished. I felt a sharp pang of guilt and was about to move to comfort her when she abruptly stopped crying. She straightened her back, wiped her tears away uncomfortably and assumed her usual sturdy self. It hurt me to see her hide her pain.

"What is it, Kitty? Were you attacked?"

She shook her head. "No… I-"

"You can't forget," I finished for her. "I understand. But we can't change what has happened. He wouldn't have wanted you to be this way. He-"

She rushed forward and flung her arms around me. I patted her awkwardly. She must have noticed my discomfort, for she pulled away and said, "We should talk."

I nodded my head in approval.

I sniffed the air around her, sensing the electric taints of magic. It was a foreign; Kitty had been with another djinni.

She was right; we did need to talk!

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*1 Though, they did have their exceptions…

*2 I mean, could there be anything funnier than watching an oil-haired, stick-thin magician squirm in fear?

*3 The pink was my own personal touch, just to spice things up a bit. Call it poetic license.

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	9. Chapter 9: Bartimaeus

**Here comes the ninth post. I'd like to thank RenWrites, Cocoacharm, Anna and Conception for reviewing my last chapter. Don't worry, as promised, I've delivered a longer chapter this time. I hope everyone will enjoy it! Also, before I forget; Disclaimer: I do not own the Bartimaeus Trilogy, Jonathan Stroud does (this makes me sad…)**

She led me into the familiar storage room of the shop, leaving a sweet fragrance in her wake. I looked about, scanning the contents of the drab backroom. The bulbs on the ceiling cast a flickering glow on the walls, which cracked and shed its dull covering. *1 With each time Kitty summoned me into the shop, it looked less like her workplace and more like her living quarters. Pressed against the far end of the "room" lay a small mattress, with a hastily folded pile of blankets on top, and a lamp (which could have been from the antique inventory) to the side of it. Underneath the lamp was a stack of dusty, leather-bound books. Due to my eagle-sharp vision, I was able to recognize the one on top: "_Vivell Christand's_ Dead and Waiting." I shook my head in disapproval; just another scumbag magician claiming he could raise the dead. Why was Kitty bothering with this rubbish?

"I noticed you've set up camp," I said, beckoning towards the corner. She sighed, as if she had been told this many times before. It was in that moment; maybe it was because of the flash of uncertainty in her eyes, when I realized just how tired and desperate Kitty had become. Underneath her bloodshot eyes were heavy, dark bags. Her cheeks sloped inwards slightly, the hollowness making her appear unhealthy. A multitude of raindrops pattered against the window, the shrieks of a cat echoed out in the alleyway *2. She opened her mouth to deliver what I was sure was a well-rehearsed speech.

"It means I don't have to commute every morning," she explained, almost as if she believed it herself "It means getting to work is so much easier."

I gave her one of my serious looks; one that told her trying to lie to Bartimaeus the Great was futile. She sighed and buried her face in her hands.

"Just get off my back, Bartimaeus," she lamented, "I don't need this from you!" I noticed an underlying anger in her voice. It took me off guard. I turned, tearing away from her frustrated glare. Usually, I would have cracked another one of my witty jokes to lighten the mood but I held myself back and realized that Kitty needed much more than a knock-knock joke to be cheered up. A feeling of helplessness overwhelmed me, why couldn't I ever help the ones I –

"I'm Sorry," she apologized, "I've been under a lot of stress lately. I didn't mean to lose control like that. Er, would you like some tea?"

I nodded my head, thinking she'd soon remember *3.

It took her longer than expected, which told me she had much on her mind. She had already set a plate in front of me, with three biscuits and a cup of tea. It was all presented rather attractively, yet I kept my distance from them, as if they were poison. She eyed me suspiciously, glancing from me to the plate of biscuits. Then she smiled, revealing a set of pearl-white teeth. "Why didn't you say anything?" she laughed, the life was back in her eyes. I couldn't help but smile.

"I thought I'd get served for a change," I said cheerily, "but don't clear it up just yet. Sit, we need to catch up."

She smiled in gratitude.

"Today…" she began, "was a weird day…"

"How do you mean?" I asked, "Weird; like tattooed Grandma on a bike 'weird' or like visions of the future 'weird'?"

She sat up abruptly when I said this. I had apparently struck the nail right on the head, for she nodded at me vigorously.

"You saw a biker grandma? Awkward –"

"No, Bartimaeus!" she said still grinning, "I had… Well I'm not sure what exactly it was. It was like a premonition. When I woke up, I was on the floor of the shop but I don't remember passing out. Nothing like this has ever happened to me before…" Her voice trembled as she said this. I had to admit, I was slightly disappointed; I mean, how many times in your life would you find a Grandma on a motorbike?

"What was the vision of?"

"Fire; a conflagration bigger than I've ever seen," she said, shivering suddenly, "It swallowed the sky."

I remembered the magic stench that I sensed all over her earlier; the odor of another djinni. A sudden anger sparked inside of me.

"You were probably just really tired. It was just a dream."

"That's not how it was," she said, with a hint of frustration. I fed off her anger.

"Well maybe if you weren't off summoning djinni all the time, you wouldn't be so exhausted."

"What are you talking about?"

"You don't have to hide anything. I don't mind it…" I said, trying to sound convincing.

"I haven't summoned anyone but you. Why would I lie about something like that?" she said, a wild look in her eyes. A sudden unexpected anger rushed through my veins, which I didn't understand; I was Bartimaeus! I never bothered with the trivial lies of humans. It was significant (though looking back, I don't remember why) she understand that I didn't care.

"So what do you want?" I asked spitefully, "Someone to share a cup of tea with? Or perhaps you just wanted to have a good gossip? Why are you wasting my time, anyways? Don't you have any friends to bother?"

I regretted these words as soon as they left my mouth. I saw the hurt expression on Kitty's face. I wanted to apologize, but for fear of coming off as fragile, I kept my mouth shut and pretended her emotions had no influence on me. Her eyes welled up, and I turned away again. A tugging feeling disturbed my essence; the room's walls appeared to be closing in on me. Like a stubborn child, I folded my arms and said nothing.

"What are you waiting for?" she asked, "I'm not stopping you from leaving."

She didn't mean that. I didn't want to leave; I wanted to stay inside, with her. Besides it was pouring outside and I didn't want to get wet ... Or, at least, that's what I told myself. But my pride took control and after suddenly taking the form of dark smog, I flew swiftly through the cracks of the window, into the bitter, somber alleyway, leaving behind a pungent smell of mold as a goodbye gift. After this extravagant, yet creative exit, I turned to see her face by the window. What I observed made my heart sink; it wasn't rage or sorrow. That would have meant she hadn't wanted me to leave, that her hurtful words were just born of frustration. Her eyes radiated a different emotion; one that told me I was nothing but an abomination to her; a freak! In Kitty' striking eyes was an unmistakable fear.

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*1 I'd only visited the Prisons of Assyria once (that was more than enough) but I still remembered the gray walls, the rusty blood-covered iron bars and the despondent djinn torturers. Kitty's room brought me to feel nostalgic… but not in a good way.

*2 As you can imagine, it all felt real homey…

*3 Human food isn't good for us djinn. I remember once my friend, Abboblez, ate a single Russian tea biscuit. The indigestion was incredible. Ever heard of the Russian crater, Kamensk? It's a whopping twenty-five kilometers in diameter. Let's just say there wasn't a meteor involved in its production…

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	10. Chapter 10: Spelevis

**Here is my tenth post! I've already written the eleventh so you won't have to wait too long for it. Firstly, a few thanks are in order. Conception, your going to have to find out about what happens later on between B&K, but I won't wait too long to update the chapters, so look out for them! I appreciate your keenness when reading this fanfiction; it's very encouraging, so thank you! Cocoacharm, you were right about the footnotes being placed towards the beginning of the post, but the reason that happened in the last chapter was because I wrote it over the period of two days. The first day I was trying to keep with Barty's sarcastic character (hence the witty footnotes), but on the second day, I decided where the scene was going (the fight with Kitty) and resolved that the footnotes might have been inappropriate because I was trying to darken the mood. However, I will try to keep them spread out more evenly in the future. Thank you for helping me improve my writing, your advice is invaluable. RenWrites and Nari-nick, I want to thank you for your reviews on A Golden Fire, you assure me that people are enjoying this; and that's the greatest reward I can get. OK, I'm blabbering on too much now, so here we go!**

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I swore under my breath at the persevering rain. My feline fur was now soggy, sticky and smelt like wet monkey *1. I shook the water off, sending drops of water all over a homeless man who slept under a piece of cardboard beside me in the alleyway. He muttered innocently in his sleep. I shook my head at him, feeling a knot form in my stomach. I first thought it was indigestion, but remembered that I hadn't eaten anything. Lightning flashed, as if in warning; telling me I had to get back to work.

The rain had penetrated the cardboard and was now dripping all over his grimy face. I heard laughter (drunken laughter to be more specific) and turned to the street to find a congregation of boisterous children heading for the very alleyway I was perched in. They dressed extravagantly, and were followed by a man who held an umbrella over their heads, completely ignoring the rain that was drenching himself *2.

They stumbled into the alley, still pursued by the slave djinni. In a way, I felt sorry for the guy. He had to wait around, holding up a stupid umbrella over those three obnoxious magicians. At least I had the liberty to roam London alone. Then I felt pity for myself; I was no better off than him; I was still bound by one impossible charge: the murder of Bartimaeus. I gave myself a well-deserved break and pulled away from the window through which I had been observing my target djinni and Kathleen Jones in the antique shop.

Then one of the little brats kicked me! Yes, you heard right, the monster prepped his leg, stretched it out and kicked an innocent cat *3. Who would do such a horrible thing to a guiltless creature? I decided that these children needed a lesson in manners, and was determined to be the one to deliver that lesson.

The regal cat opened its mouth to speak, "Hey!"

The children looked at me in shock. "You spoke?" said one of the boys. He was large and dressed in a most unimpressive suit. He resembled a bowling ball: big, round and with an IQ lower than a sandwich.

"That was very observant of you," I said, using my leg to take care of an itch behind my left ear. "Didn't your mother teach you not to harm innocent animals?"

And then I transformed into a Liger *4 and growled threateningly to the trembling magicians. Watching them writhe in their ridiculous suits made my day, but I wasn't done with tormenting. I was just about to pounce on Mr. Gigantic (just to give him a few slaps on the face…) when something interrupted.

A column of black smoke materialized from the window; it was Bartimaeus. I had to admit, this guy had some style. In a way, I admired his flare; and the creativity he took with his transformations. It was a shame I was obliged to destroy him, but I had time for that later on, so for the moment, I refrained from making a move, and watched him envelop the magicians. Before long, the children were off, fleeing through the streets of London, mumbling like dumb animals. It was all very satisfactory to watch *5.

Then Bartimaeus took the form of a boy, with dark skin and intelligent, alert eyes. The Egyptian boy looked at me for the first time, seeing through my feline guise and acknowledging my presence with a quick nod.

"Oh," he said, flustered, "I didn't notice you there. Was that-?" he said, beckoning to the frenzied apprentices.

"My game?" I finished, "Yes, it was. But thanks for taking care of it, my essence was starting to ache."

"I know the feeling," he sighed and took a seat on a dustbin. I wondered what his charge was; he appeared to be taking it rather lightly.

"Ignorant master?" I asked curiously.

He seemed to give this some more thought and took his time to answer.

"No," he finally said.

"Hey you're Bartimaeus, aren't you?" I asked, pretending I had just realized this.

"The one and only."

"Listen, I've got some time before I have to address my charge. I know this great place where a bunch of foliots gather for a great wrestle," I transformed into a puny imp, "we, could get in on the fun." I winked.

He laughed.

"Sure."

"Follow me. Spelevis is the name, by the way," I said. Before leaving the alley, I cast an Umbrella charm on the sleeping hobo to keep the rain from trickling onto his face. He still snoozed there; completely unaware of the two majestic djinnis that had conversed right next to him. Poor guy, he just missed the opportunity of a lifetime.

And then we were off into the night.

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*1 No offense to any monkeys who might be reading this, of course.

*2 Just more pompous magician apprentices having some fun. How, you ask, did I know they were magicians? Well, it was a mixture of superior intelligence, quick thinking and alertness. Also, there was the fact that the man holding the umbrella was a mid-level djinni on the third plane.

*3 That's me, by the way. Of course, he didn't know that in reality, I wasn't just another harmless stray, but Spelevis the Splendid (that's what the people of Byzantium called me, at least they were grateful!)

*4 A Liger is the offspring of a Lion and a Tiger. This mix is the product of recent human experiments that took place in the British Empire when the government was researching new methods of BioWarefare. They are proud creatures, and are capable of devouring a whole magician in a single bite. Sweet.

*5 This whole time, their guard djinni did nothing. I guessed he usually took every opportunity possible to see his masters get bashed up (luckily enough, they probably hadn't ordered him to protect them from alleyway muggers). Good for him.

**Please don't forget to review you guys, just click on the button below. Also, wait for the next installment, I've already written it so you won't have to wait too long!**


	11. Chapter 11: Clark Bell

**Here is my eleventh post (no, I don't think I'll ever stop counting them)! I've had so much fun writing this one so I hope you all enjoy it. Conception, you're always the first to review my chapters. Thanks a lot, also, I'm waiting impatiently for your next story. Do you have anything in mind already? RenWrites, I also want to thank you for your comments, they are so very encouraging, and I'm glad you're enjoying my fanfic. Right, guys, I'll make sure to put in the headers in the future, also, the name of the chapters really tells from whose point of view it will be told. All right, enough talk, let's go!**

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Clark was surrounded.

Everywhere he turned he found the smirking creatures advancing towards him. His heart pumped agonizingly in his chest. He was vulnerable; he could do nothing to fight off these monstrous beings. Like a cub with its mother, he turned towards his master, who observed the creatures with a fascinated expression; almost as if he wanted to study them; almost as if he wished to understand their presence. Anger erupted inside of Clark, blazing in his blood. He kicked himself into gear; it was time someone took action.

"We need to do something!" he called, jerking his master out of the untimely trance.

"I told you this would happen," Septoria turned towards her master, a fierce expression on her face. Without warning, she sent a Detonation towards the fleshless beings. The magic made contact and a deep gurgling sound resonated as the power engulfed the water, bursting several skeletal figures and sending limbs hurtling in all directions. With a satisfied smile, she sent several more Detonations, a few of the energy orbs only missing Clark's head by a few inches. He was impelled to the ground as the Detonations created a bubble of pressurized air where they flew past him. His master pulled him up, retrieved a few Elemental Spheres, handed a couple over and tossed the rest into the crowding attackers. In swirls of fire and earth, they were consumed, knocking against one another and buried underneath a hurricane of energy. The majority of the undead assailants were destroyed; battered beyond recognition.

If only it were that easy.

For a moment, happiness and relief washed over Clark. They had done it; they had destroyed the monsters and were free to leave the grotto. The world didn't feel like such a bleak, precarious place.

All of that changed when the placid waters began to swirl once again. Dexterous hands of water drew the bones together, reconstructing the limbs into a different assortment of creatures, into an army that appeared more horrific than the last. Exultance was replaced by humiliation. How could he think that he could kill what was already dead? These soldiers were invincible, and he would perish here trying to ward them off. He felt sick just thinking about it.

His master and Septoria did not lose hope, however. He turned to her with sheer purposefulness; a fire gleaming in his eyes; an intention behind every action. Clark knew he would be safe as long as his master was around. But for how long would that last?

"What are they?" Clark asked.

"Ghuls," his master answered, "Ancient protectors of the underground Arab Tomes. They're supposed to be extinct."

"Well, didn't someone tell them that?" Clark asked apprehensively.

Septoria continued on with her barrage. Through her impressive willpower and endurance, Clark could already see she was drained, which meant that they didn't have much time left until they would be overtaken. From her hands a thick Smog, smelling distinctly of petroleum, emerged, and snaked around the skeletons, enveloping them in an overpowering cloud of darkness. The Ghuls paid no attention and drew even closer to the trio. Now, they were only meters away, and Clark was certain they would reach him. His master pulled out an Inferno Stick and tossed it into the sea of enemies. Once it activated, a tall pillar of flame materialized, and with a deafening crackle, the oily smoke was ignited and the blaze consumed everything in a dazzling flash. Only Septoria's protective charm, cast seconds before the explosion, prevented Clark from burning to a crisp.

The explosion did nothing but blacken the persistent corpses, their wails continued to reverberate throughout the sullen grotto.

"What the heck is wrong with them? Why won't they just give up?" Clark yelled in panic, his voice trembling wildly.

"They weren't programmed to give up, Clark" his master said, "Their job is to protect the Ring."

"Well then just give it back!"

"I can't do that," he said guiltily.

Now it was their turn to make a move. The leading assailant lifted its skull upwards and released a high-pitched shriek, which ricocheted off the walls of the caves and rang mercilessly in Clark's ears. His head suddenly felt heavy, and his vision dimmed. The next thing he remembered, he was on the floor. The emaciated Ghuls had already reached him, and were dragging him into the lagoon. He screamed in terror and dug his hands into the dirt in resistance. It was to no avail, he wasn't strong enough. The Ghuls had seized him by his legs, their frosty fingers numbing his skin as they tightened their murderous grip. He felt a warm trickle of blood from the wounds on his leg; the creatures eyed it hungrily.

His master and Septoria were behind him, still fighting off the Ghuls. Septoria blew another Detonation in his direction. He saw the bubble of energy soar above his face and hammer the Ghuls back. She had saved his life yet again.

_What's the point? They're invincible! _Clark thought. No matter what his master or Septoria shelled out, the water just re-assembled the remains of the creatures. They couldn't be stopped.

He was suddenly struck with an idea.

_The water!_ He thought. He crawled back on all fours to his master, whose brow was covered with beads of sweat. When he turned to acknowledge his apprentice, Clark noticed the terror that was plastered on his face, and a profound remorse that roamed in his watery eyes. Clark had never seen his master like this before, but this was no time to ask questions; he had to act.

"Master, remember our lesson of the legendary Rain Bird, Rockus?"

"Clark, this is hardly the time!" his master panted before flinging another Inferno Stick into the mesh of chaos.

"Remember how the immortal bird was slain?" Clark persisted, his spoke hastily, hoping to make his case before the Ghuls were too close to impede, "The bird couldn't be defeated by conventional warfare as it would always regenerate itself after the human's attacks, so The Winter God emerged from the skies to answer the human's prayers and he-"

"Froze its blood…" Septoria finished.

His master turned suddenly to face him, with a hint of a smile on his lips. Maybe there was still hope; still a chance at survival.

"Septoria," he nodded at her.

A wispy mist engulfed her as she transformed. Her arms elongated, snow-white feathers sprouted from her skin, twinkling in the light of the orbs that still shook above the lagoon. Where a beautiful woman's face was, grew that of a fierce bird of prey: the face of a Roc.

Without waiting for more orders, she took off, roaring defiantly over the undead army. She circled them, opened her diamond wings to discharge a dense frost. Their movements slowed, their watery veins freezing solid. With another snarl, she circled again, gliding between the masses of skeletons, showering them with blanket of ice.

And then all was silent. Septoria returned to her master and landed gracefully in human form once more.

Looking at the hundreds of unmoving monsters reminded Clark of a trip he'd had to a museum when he was younger. He remembered the uneasiness he felt as the statues and sculptures watched him from behind their panes of glass. He felt that again as the eyeless Ghuls viewed him keenly. Their war cries had ceased; all he could hear now was his own breathing and the constant drumming of his heart. Time had stopped. He was tempted to stick out his tongue in triumph, but thought better of it.

"We did it," he finally said "we've overcome them."

His master stepped in front of him, "Because you had the resourcefulness. You had the knowledge and in the time of terror, you were able to bring it to use. You've saved us."

He felt the blood rush to his face. He couldn't believe this was happening.

"Well…" Septoria said, "I helped out too."

The three of them broke out into laughter. They knew it was hardly the time or place (they dreaded to think of what else might be awakened by their ruckus), but it was just one of those times when they couldn't help themselves.

"Here," his master pulled out the Ring and a shred of roughed-up parchment from his pocket before handed them over to Clark. "You wear the Ring, you've earned it." He ushered towards the scruffy parchment now in Clark's hands "that was the clue; that is what told me we'd find the article here. Keep it: it may still hold potent secrets. The mystery of the Ring's power is yours now."

With his master's compliments came a heavy responsibility; the gravity of his master's offering struck him. Clark swore to himself he wouldn't fail his master; he would discover the secrets of the Ring. The fact that it was so heavily guarded meant it was more powerful than anything he'd experienced before.

"How are we going to get out of here?" he asked, anxiety washing over him yet again.

"Well, we could try that door over there…" Septoria said, pointing to a dark wooden exit that was behind them the whole time, hiding mischievously in the shadows.

They moved towards it, away from the frozen Ghuls, past the piles of shimmering gold (which Clark cast one last hopeful glace at). His master approached the door cautiously, then gripped the knob and pushed. It remained shut.

"It's locked."

Septoria sighed impatiently. She stepped forward and, with her bare fists, punched through the wood and tore the lock out as if it were made of paper.

"Not anymore."

The door opened and a warm, desert breeze that smelt of jasmines lapped over them.

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	12. Chapter 12: Kitty Jones

**I'm onto the next chapter now (Chapter 12). Thank you to my constant reviewers: Conception, Cocoacharm and RenWrites. I don't think I can properly describe the pride I experience when reading your reviews, you make me feel talented and that is an awesome feeling! I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as the others. Let's not waste any more time!**

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Kitty collapsed on the bed, accidently knocking her head on the wall to which the mattress was pressed up against. She reached up instinctively to rub the aching spot in a soothing manner. Then she cried, and couldn't stop.

Kitty Jones was ashamed of herself. She wasn't a little girl, the tears that plummeted from her face were unnecessary and the injury was hardly mild. But that wasn't why she wept. She knew Bartimaeus was disappointed with her, and with good reason, too. She had halted all contact with the normal world, moved into the shabby storeroom of the antique shop and immersed herself in peculiar magician's magic. All she wanted was Nathaniel back; but that was the one thing that she was certain would never happen. She buried her face in her hands. Why did she even care so much about what Bartimaeus thought?

She sat up on the mattress, once again bashing into the wall. She turned to it furiously, kicking it away with one of her legs. She was _certain_ it was out to get her. Kitty Jones swore to herself that she would teach the wall a lesson later.

In her agitation, a mound of books that had been placed underneath the lamp by the bed gave way in a cloud of dust. She sneezed suddenly, and then once more before mumbling miserably under her breath. Surely it was "Torture Kitty Day", for nothing was turning out the way she wanted it to? She decided to take her mind off things, and randomly selected a book up from the bedside. After glancing at the cover, she realized that she hadn't even opened this one yet. The cover of the book was made of thick leather, the colour tarnished by the years. It felt electric in her fingers, almost as if it had its own energy. She remembered the day it came into her possession: she was pondering leaving the city (and all the memories of her past) behind, so she took a trip south-east to Canterbury; a point now flourishing with foreigners; a place where exotic magic buzzed in the air.

_She had been walking along the Great Stour River, which cut through the city center, peering into its murky depths. The cottages and low-leveled buildings provoked insecurity in Kitty. She was so used to the towering structures of London, that now, she felt absolutely exposed. More than once, she jumped frightfully at the tiniest of sounds behind her; it was probably a rodent of some kind, but Kitty couldn't help but feel she was being pursued. The sun had already set; the street was lit by the warm glow of the cottages, and the occasional lamps as a stranger furtively passed through the abandoned streets. With the oncoming darkness came the departure of the traveling merchants, who had already begun tidying away their stalls. _

Kitty remembered feeling disappointed that she had missed the market day. She recalled thinking that the merchants would soon be gone, voyaging the rest of the undiscovered world freely, while she would be stuck in London, without even a souvenir to keep with her.

_She sighed, and decided it would probably do no good to stay for the night. After circling the square in utter confusion (not bothering to carry a map; she was a disaster at reading them), she managed to stumble on to the Great Stour River again, and followed it in the opposite direction to which she had come._

Kitty once again experienced the apprehension that overwhelmed her on that night. It weighed down upon her, even as she sat on the bed thinking back. Perhaps if she hadn't taken that route…

_Then she saw a figure in the darkness. It flailed its arms wildly in the air while calling out in a thin, wheezy voice. Kitty's first instinct was to run away, but she held herself back; the being (be it djinni or human) looked like it was enduring great pain. She felt a strong desire to help, so she approached the woman (as she found out it was when she caught a real glimpse of the figure's face), whose face was turning a disconcerting shade of purple, her eyes bulging out of their sockets._

"_Innp on nik," she said._

"_What?" Kitty asked timidly; this woman was making no sense._

_She made a move to leave, but the woman fell to the floor, still writhing in anguish. Guilt consumed Kitty's mind. How could she leave this woman when it was clear something was wrong, and she needed help?_

_The woman shot Kitty another look of desperation before grabbing at her neck and stretching outwards, as if pulling an invisible force away from her._

"_Imp on neck," she stuttered once more._

_Kitty jumped into action, scanning the woman's neck to find cuts and bruises all over it. She felt for the imp, wishing she had a pair of those magician lenses so that she could see what she was dealing with. She jerked her hand back, drops of blood plummeted from her fingers; the wretched thing bit her!_

_She had had enough, and reached for the woman again, this time squeezing as hard as she could at the imperceptible foliot. The woman had ceased her flailing, Kitty feared she was already dead, but did not release her grip on the demon. All she could do was persist with her attack._

_And then there was an abrupt popping sound, and a bitter stench engulfed the woman and her savior. The girl fluttered her eyes open, took a deep breath of air and looked at Kitty appreciatively. She then wiped the drops of perspiration from her face; which was slowly turning from the plum-purple to its original colour._

"_Thanks," she was able to say through gasps for air._

"_No problem," Kitty added, giving a weak smile._

_Kitty then took this opportunity to properly study the woman. She was dressed in a coal-black jacket, which was far too big for her. Her pants, stained with a silt-like dirt from the riverside, were also blatantly too large, but were held to the woman's rather thin frame by a tightly wrapped belt; which was constructed of shadowy scales (of unknown origins). The woman's frizzy, chestnut-brown hair was hidden, or rather, partially hidden, under a scruffy cap and her face was stained with grime that looked like it had been on her face for quite a while. She appeared hardly older than Kitty, who thought the woman was a hobo at first, but deduced from the bag of extravagant goods (obviously magical) tossed to the side, that she was a thief. Judging by the overall bulging size of the sack, she was a very good one too._

_Kitty moved nervously away from the panting woman, intending to leave her there; she wasn't under any danger now, and Kitty wanted to pretend she hadn't realized the woman was a criminal, otherwise she would feel guilty for not saying something to the authorities._

"_Thanks… again, you've saved my life," she managed, "I'm Summer…"_

"_You're welcome, Summer," Kitty replied awkwardly, "Anyways, I'll be leaving-"_

"_You're one of those Immune people, right?" she cut off, "You have a residue to magic…"_

"_Excuse me?" _

"_You aren't affected by the imp. That's why-" she began._

"_Oh, you mean "_Resistance"_**;**__ I have a resistance to magic…"_

"_Oh yeah, that's what I said."_

"_Yes, I do." Kitty admitted. She couldn't help herself from confronting the girl, "and you're a thief, probably still fresh from committing the crime. Those merchants," she pointed to back to where the stalls had been, "will soon find that some of their inventory has gone missing, won't they?"_

_The girl blushed, but made no attempt to deny Kitty's accusations._

"_I'll tell you what," she said while groping through her bag, "I give you this, and you don't tell a soul that you've seen me here…" she pulled out a leathery book, studied it scrupulously, and after concluding it could hardly be worth anything, handed it over to Kitty. Then she was off before Kitty could protest, and was engulfed by the darkness. Kitty hadn't even the time to ask the girl why an imp had been trying to kill her. She supposed she'd never see Summer again._

_Kitty purchased a train ticket and was back in London that very night. She comprehended that her being out of London was like being a fish out of the water. All that could come from leaving the city was adventure, and that was the last thing on earth Kitty wanted._

She read the words on the cover.

_Les Mots Mortes de la Djinni Veracova_

Kitty knew enough French to know that it said "The Deathly Words of the Djnni Veracova." A sudden curiosity sparked inside of her.

You know what they say about curiosity, don't you?

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**Please review guys, just click on the button below…**


	13. Chapter 13: Kitty Jones

**Hello readers! I'm back with the thirteenth post. It took a little longer this time, so I apologize for that, I've been quite busy recently. This chapter is told from Kitty's point of view, and really drives the story forward. I hope you all find it intriguing. Thanks goes to RenWrites (I liked Summer too, we'll just have to see how the story goes), Nari-nick (don't fear, Bartimaeus isn't too far away, and I hope to have him take a much larger role from now on), Cocoacharm (I totally get the French thing!), Conception (more will be revealed about the book in this chapter, so hopefully of your questions will be answered) and Thomas Moore (a new reviewer! I appreciate your comments, but I encourage you to read further, I really do think the chapters improve as they go along…) for reviewing. I'm glad you enjoyed the previous chapter, guys, so here's the next one!**

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Although nothing was stopping her from scanning through the book, Kitty got the horrible feeling that she was doing something wrong. It was almost as if she knew something bad would happen. Maybe she should have trusted her instincts, and left the book aside.

But it was hardly five minutes before Kitty succumbed to temptation, and cautiously pulled the leather cover aside, the binding creaking precariously as she did so. The pages of the book were desiccated, and crackled as she bent them. An aroma of smoke wafted from the papers, although there were clearly no signs of a burn anywhere. Her eyes drifted, as if attracted by a magnetic force, to the delicately crafted, ink letters at the top of the page. It seemed that every symbol was constructed with care; every sentence a geometric art form. Kitty knew she was dealing with something dangerous, but nevertheless read through the introductory paragraph:

_I am Veracova, Demi-Afrit born of fire, Architect of The Deathly Words._

_In these pages I record, under the charge of my Authoritative Master, the evils, the monsters, the magic and the voyages I have experienced in my lifetime. With every page I illustrate, I pour more of my life force into the book. In your hands, you hold the Testimony of my life, and the Bringer of my death; with your eyes you uncover the truths about the world of Magicians; a world of power and corruption._

_Beware naïve human: with superior knowledge comes an insurmountable liability._

These words of the departed demi-afrit sent chills down her spine, but Kitty was not a woman easily influenced, and so she shook the feeling of trepidation off, and continued reading. She turned the page once more, enjoying the smoky fragrance of the book. With every page she read, she felt a heavier feeling weigh down on her stomach. She was sailing into uncharted waters now: a place where no human alive has ever been. It was horrifying, saddening and exhilarating all at the same time.

She read about ultimate weapons of power, about expeditions to the unknown and about monsters too grotesque to explain. There were even a few incantations listed, which looked promising, but a voice in Kitty's head kept telling her to ignore them. She trusted her instincts, and refrained from repeating anything aloud. Then she stumbled across a text that caught her eye. Her pulse raced as she read the demon's descriptions, her mind buzzed with questions. She was certain she had found what her heart had been yearning for since Nathaniel's death. It read:

_Among one of the most misunderstood articles of magic, created by the magicians themselves, is the NexPontus Ring, fashioned by the Arabian smiths of Maraveil. The ring wields great power, but does not posses even an imp inside the toxic metal. The NexPontus ring is potent because it is activated to act as a bridge, opening a portal connecting the realm of humans, to the one of souls; a bridge conventionally crossed only by death. The humans had no idea of what this meant; what life force can be obtained from the souls; what energy could later used to accomplish even the most arduous tasks. The naïve magicians only desired the NexPontus Ring to bring back their fellow deceased comrades and to create an army that would forever resurrect itself. This is just one of the magician's faults: never being able to see the bigger picture…_

The rest of the page was missing: a small rectangular portion of the text had been ripped from the book. She sighed to herself, the tear had removed what she guessed was the location of the ring, for all that remained was the ring's activation incantation written in blood-red ink at the bottom of the parchment. But what use was it if she couldn't even get access to the actual ring? She sighed once more, not believing that she had reached yet another dead-end. She tossed the book aside, no longer interested in understanding more of the djinni's secrets. She vowed to never waste her time with such stuff in the future; they always led her to become hopeful, when in the end her faith would be crushed.

And then she fell to the floor.

Her left arm trembled, her legs felt like jelly, but all she could do was focus breathing. And then the world around her faded away, and she was looking up to the sky.

_The turbulence of the heavens was beyond anything Kitty had seen before, she was convinced there had to be some higher power causing the commotion. Heavy clouds, threatening with a great lightning spectacle, blanketed the atmosphere. But she noticed a golden glint, clandestine in the overcast, but still conspicuous enough from below to be sure she hadn't imagined it: the NexPontus Ring. And then a tentacle of flame emerged from the ring's center. It lit up the sky, like golden lightning, and cleared the clouds in a whirlwind of air. Kitty even felt the earthquake as the NexPontus Ring released another wave of heat. And then a golden shimmer, wavy as water, materialized from the portal. It circled the ring, but then slowly descended towards Kitty. When it was close enough, she found the golden apparition had taken the form of a human, with long, greasy hair, and a warm face. It looked at her with sadness in its eyes and an encouraging smile. She opened her mouth to speak to him; tell it she missed him; explain how she loved him, but the scene slowly fell away, replaced by an impenetrable darkness…_

Kitty had already experienced a premonition previously, but this one was much more vivid. It left her feeling light-headed, almost to the point where she couldn't lift up her arm; her whole body was numb. She took slow deep breaths of air, and surely, she regained control. She wondered why she had had another premonition, this time she had seen someone; seen Nathaniel return through the NexPontus Ring. This was it; this was the sign she had been looking for. Now she was certain she had to use the NexPontus Ring to bring Nathaniel back. The only question now was how was she supposed to retrieve it?

She opened The Deathly Words once more, to double check whether or not the djinni left any more hints on the object's whereabouts. She turned to the exact page, but it was no use.

_Magicians, due to the overwhelming energy that seeps through their homes, usually acquire a strange type of foot wart, called the Agoo Wart, first discovered in…_

She flipped the pages, but the desired information was nowhere to be found. She should have known that the djinni would have enchanted the book just to make things difficult for the magician using it. She cursed her bad luck. While gripping the book firmly with both hands (she was certain it had other tricks up its sleeve that would lead to its "misplacement") she moved towards the bedside, and stuffed it underneath the mattress. She barely had time to do anything else before she heard a sudden crashing sound back in the shop. Someone, or something, had burst through the windows. At first, she thought it would be Bartimaeus, but judging from the whispered voices that soon ensued, she guessed it was someone else; someone coming for the book.

Unfortunately for Kathleen Jones, she was right.

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**Please don't forget to review this chapter (I live off reviews!) and remember that I've changed the settings, so now people can review anonymously! **


	14. Chapter 14: Clark Bell

**I've finally finished with the next chapter. I'm sorry it took so long, but I've been quite busy. I'll do better in the future! Thank you Conception, RenWrites, Cocoacharm and Nari-nick for reviewing my last chapter. It's awesome to know people enjoy my work. I'm ready, are you? Let's go!**

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After the adventurous day the trio had been through, Clark completely forgot how hungry he was. His stomach rumbled, so he laced both arms around himself, hoping to contain the commotion. His master looked sheepishly at him, grinning as he did so.

"Hungry, Clark?" he said, as they ascended the stairs. The air had gone from being acrimoniously cold to uncomfortably stuffy, which was to be expected, as they grew closer to the surface of the Arabian Desert. "Put on the ring, it's supposed to have comforting powers…"

He wiped the beads of sweat from his forehead as a low bubbling echoed from his stomach. He blushed in embarrassment once more, and quickly slid the cool metal onto his finger. He felt no different, yet his master still nodded approvingly.

"At ease, hero." Septoria teased, looking straight out of the tunnel, "We'll be home soon."

Even though Clark was sure they had nearly died on multiple occasions during their trip to Arabia, he was quite sorry to have to leave. He would miss the warmth, the sunsets, the food and the richness of the culture. In fact, a trace of guilt lingered in his mind; he had just realized that they had committed a crime by retrieving the ring; they had stolen a magical artifact. Still, if it meant the British Empire would be safe, he would at least be able to force his concerns aside.

"Ouch," Clark lamented, "Septoria, you stood on my leg!"

"Oh sorry," she shrugged, "I didn't see you there…"

Clark barely had time to ponder how on earth she could not have seen him when they emerged from the suffocating darkness of the caves.

The mouth of the tunnel opened up to the desert, a warm breeze circled the entrance to the caves, enveloping the travelers in an all-too-welcome warmth. The stars, adjacent to a ghostly, waning moon, twinkled like extraordinary diamonds in the night sky, their grandeur provoking Clark to feel rather insignificant. The desert expanded for miles onwards until it reached civilization, and the thought that they would have to track all the way back made Clark's legs wobble. That should have been the least of his worries.

"Well, well," came a cold voice from the darkness, "What do we have here?"

Clark's heartbeat quickened. He did not know who, or what, this intruder was, but the confident tone of its voice sure freaked him out. And then there was a crack, like the sound of striking a match, and a light, which was only strong enough to reveal His face.

The magician's eyes were coal-black. Clark couldn't even bear to look into their alien depths for fear of being swallowed by them. The magician's hair was cut short and a scar, stretching from his left eye to just below his high cheekbones gave him an intimidating, belligerent appearance. Beside this rude figure was another that towered above even Septoria, it's skin fabricated from dark scales, its hair a thick seaweed-green mess. What made Clark shiver was the all-knowing aura that the afrit possessed; it studied everything with a superior intelligence in its eyes. Clark almost wished someone would say something to take away from the tension. His master was the first to do so:

"Duardo, I should have known you would be pursuing us," he said coolly, "God forbid you'd have to retrieve the NexPontus Ring yourself."

Duardo shook his head at Clark's master, and then turned straight to Septoria, not even bothering to glance at Clark.

"You really shouldn't tease," he said, "when you're outnumbered."

A tiny gnat, which had been standing on Duardo's shoulder, suddenly transformed into a short, bald man. The grinning djinni then turned to them, and waved excitedly, like some hyperactive child. However, Clark couldn't help but fear the demon's razor sharp teeth that he flashed only too enthusiastically.

"Just hand over the ring," Duardo demanded.

"Never!"

His master, who had been clutching the last elemental sphere behind his back, tossed it at the attackers. The afrit caught the sphere in one hand, and crushed it. The explosion did hardly any damage to the afrit. The wind was blowing heavily now, thrusting grains of sand at Clark's face which was now stinging in pain. An acidic feeling pulled down on his stomach, how were they supposed to escape this potent afrit?

Septoria disintegrated into millions of grains of dust, and circled her master protectively. The djinni by Duardo's other side laughed ostentatiously and conjured a fireball in one hand; it flickered dangerously in the djinni's eyes. He then hurled it at Clark's master, but before it could make impact, the hurricane of particles collected to form a thick shield, and blocked the attack. The shield burst, sending sparks flying everywhere. The floating sand fell to the floor, lifeless. His master looked at the ground in shock, tears welled in his eyes. He looked up towards Duardo, anger gleaming on his face. Clark was sure he had heard Septoria scream in agony as she died.

But he was frozen in fear, and didn't even dare to breath.

The djinni, not yet satisfied with the kill, sent a Detonation hurtling towards Clark's master. The energy orb hit him square in the chest, he didn't even have time to retaliate before he fell back, lifeless, to the ground.

And then the world stopped.

Clark couldn't think, couldn't breath, and couldn't do anything to help his master. All he knew was that it hurt. And he wanted it to end.

Then Duardo spoke words that confused Clark.

"Recover the Ring, Mandaro," he told the Afrit, "then we may be away from this wretched place."

The afrit moved towards Clark's master who was now drenched in blood, his eyes still wide open. It bent over and reached into the corpse's coat pocket. He then pulled an object out. It glinted in the moonlight. But that was impossible; the NexPontus Ring was on Clark's finger! He looked down to see whether he had dropped it somehow, but found nothing, literally. It was like his hand had been chopped off, like it was… invisible.

At then it hit him. In the grotto, Clark's master instructed him to wear the ring, so that he would be shielded from an impending danger. In the tunnel, Septoria had not seen him. In the desert, the murderers had acted as if they hadn't noticed him the entire time; but that was because they hadn't. They couldn't see him! Clark would soon learn that one of the NexPontus Ring's powers is the ability to render its wearer invisible.

The afrit strode back to its master, and together they turned and headed away into the night, leaving Clark to crouch over his master's body.

But the djinni did not join them. His eyes flashed in the moonlight as he surveyed the scene. The wind had conjured a full-on sandstorm. The sand lapped against Clark's face, wiping away the tears. Maybe if his invisible body hadn't deviated the direction of the sand, then the djinni wouldn't have noticed him.

The monster locked eyes with Clark. Then smiled. All Clark wanted to do was run away. But something held him back.

Then the djinni transformed into a panther, snarled and leapt into the air at Clark. He knew that there was no hope as the majestic animal knocked him over with brute strength.

"I knew it!" he sneered, his breath sour, "Like what I've done with your master?"

"Who are you?" was all Clark was able to say.

"The name's Bartimaeus." The panther lifted a paw, the razor-sharp nails flashed menacingly. But before he could take a swipe at Clark, a scream erupted, and a mound of sand rose into the air before shape shifting into a terrifying, winged monster. It shoved Bartimaeus off of Clark, grasped him by the shoulders and took off into the night. All the while, the boy shook in horror.

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**Please don't forget to review this chapter, people. Even if you hated it, tell me!**


	15. Chapter 15: Bartimaeus

**Here is the next chapter. I've very much enjoyed your reviews, RenWrites, Conception, Cocoacharm and Nari-nick. I really hope that everyone likes this chapter; the subsequent one will be here soon too so watch out for it! I also just wanted to say that there will be a BIG twist at the end of the fanfiction, so keep reading to the very. I am also excruciatingly curious as to what your speculations are… Anyways, enough talk; let's get back to good old Bartimaeus!**

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I liked this Spelevis fellow quite a bit. I mean, some company was all I really needed after that argument with Kitty. My anger had burned out by now, and all I felt was a profound guilt. Kitty was probably still in the shop, feeling solitary and miserable. Why did I have to be so cruel to her? All she wanted was someone to talk to. And what did I do? I mocked her efforts to fashion a normal life for herself, I laughed in her face, I turned away when she all she really needed was a friend *1.

All I wanted to do was turn back and sprint to Kitty's shop. I would then look into those deep, beautiful eyes and tell her… What would I tell her?

"We're nearly there," announced Spelevis.

We were bounded swiftly over the roofs of London. We decided to take the form of two cats *2. The cool air drifted through my lush coat of fur, reviving my dampened spirits. The elegant cat hopped to yet another building when its companion spoke.

"We've arrived," he said, panting.

"Finally," I replied fastidiously, "my legs were really starting to ache." I transformed to a tiny, red imp. The imp (which was unusually good-looking compared to it's other kind) bent over, stretching its stubby legs and sighing with pleasure.

Sure enough, a group of foliots was roughing it up on the roof adjacent to the one we'd landed on. The little monsters looked so pathetic, I very nearly didn't want to join in. Spelevis looked up at me, and winked. He then hopped over and asked the other imps, with a feeble, quivering voice, whether we he could join in their friendly match. I had to admit: he was quite the accomplished actor.

"Eh… okay," said the ignorant leader-imp, " but you and your friend will have to pay a fee." I almost felt sorry for his attempt at sounding demanding. Almost…

Spelevis looked cheekily at me. I picked up two random pebbles from the rooftop, held them furtively behind my back, and using my superior djinni powers, transformed the two pebbles from a valueless sandstone fusion into pure, solid gold *3. Then I joined Spelevis, knelt to one fatty imp knee, and offered the pebb- I mean Treasures, to the leader imp. The underprivileged fool actually took the bait; his face lit up and he couldn't help but drool over the worthless rocks. After all, they were shiny, and shiny is what imps really care about.

"You may join us," said the imp in a voice I guessed was supposed to sound imperial.

We joined in on the wrestle, at first hardly utilizing any of our unmatched strength against the imps; we didn't want them to get too suspicious. Before long, Spelevis and I decided it was time to start having some real fun. I lifted an imp up, and with notable might, tossed him all the way to the other side of the roof, where he landed right on top of another unsuspecting foliot.

"Score!" I called in triumph. Spelevis couldn't help but break into laughter. This was turning out to be a pretty enjoyable day.

The lead foliot still hadn't caught on, and went for Spelevis with plump arms held out as if ready to give him a hug. He reached Spelevis, and wrapped his arms tightly around the disguised djinni. Spelevis just stood there, acting powerless and trying as hard as he could not to grin. The foliot was still tightly clutching to Spelevis when he began to slowly expand, like a balloon being inflated.

"What are you doing?" asked the confused imp. The look on his face was priceless *4!

Spelevis continued to grow, then when he was immense enough, transformed into a giant leopard, and growled maliciously at the foliots. They all squealed, like little piglets, in fear and were jumping from the rooftop in seconds. I rolled on the floor laughing. It felt good to be free, to roam London without the weight of a charge on my shoulders. I just wanted life to be like this all the time. But then I remembered Kitty, and the happiness I had been experiencing dissipated. Maybe it was about time I got back to her…

Spelevis trotted over, and fell to one side, hardly containing an infectious smile. But the excitement melted away from me, and all that was left was rawness. Spelevis must have noticed this, for he said: "What's wrong? Not your type of sport?"

"No, no…" I replied, "It's just, my master."

"Another pathetic magician? Snobby fellow? Shallow creep?"

"Amazing person." I answered, slightly taken aback by my own answer.

"Excuse me?" Spelevis asked, clearly surprised, "are you feeling alright, Bartimaeus?" he chuckled while holding up a hand as if to take my temperature.

"You don't understand," I said, not really wanting to explain it all.

"Well… then help me to," he smiled at me. It had been a while since I'd experienced such camaraderie with another djinni. Memories of Queezle flooded back, and with it came a profound sorrow. Why was I acting like such an emo?

So I told him about the last few years, about how surprised I had been when scrawny Nathaniel summoned me, about the fate of his beloved Mrs. Underwood, about the treacherous Simon Lovelace and the Amulet of Samarkand, about the Golem, about our voyage to Czech, about the Resistance and the infamous Kitty Jones, about the Mercenary, about Gladstone's Staff and about the Glass Palace. By the end of it, his jaw had dropped. I looked at him with a weak smile, but somehow wasn't able to stop a tear welling up in my eye *5.

"That sounds like quite the adventure. But why are you back? Didn't you say this Nathaniel person released you just before he died?"

"I was summoned by Kitty Jones," I said sadly, "She recently found out I was alive. It's been almost two years since Nathaniel's death… but she still hasn't been able to get it together. I haven't been much help, either."

"Well, I know where we can go to get your mind of things," he declared.

"Not another rooftop?" I chuckled.

"Not quite," he said.

Two pigeons leapt from the roof, and flew above the familiar sights and smells of London. We were gliding for what felt like hours, and the cold had pierced through my skin, causing me shake all over. I was just about to say something when Spelevis began to descend. We landed in a green park; it was deserted at this late hour, except for a congregation of drinking children *6.

"Why here?" I asked curiously.

Spelevis hesitated, "because this was where I was instructed to bring you."

"Excuse me?"

"I'm sorry…" he said, a genuine sadness gleaming in his eyes.

"Hey!" came a voice behind me.

I turned, to find a boy, hardly a teen, sitting on a park bench behind us. On his face was sheer determination, not unlike the kind I had seen on Nathaniel when I first met him. With magicians, this usually means they're trouble. I was dead on with this assumption.

"Bartimaeus?" the child questioned.

"Who's asking?"

Before I had time to retaliate, the boy nodded to his djinni, and a green Sludge sprouted from Spelevis's fingers, enveloping me, and then there was…

The sound of a heartbeat.

And silence.

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*1 Yes, it's a shocker, I, Bartimaeus, Serpent of the Silver Plumes, can make mistakes… sometimes. What's even worse is I can't use the excuse "Well, I'm human." That's just like those hypocritical humans; always making excuses to conceal their mistakes, but not allowing others to do the same. Anyways, we're getting off topic now…

*2 It was Spelevis's idea. To be frank, I had wanted to be a pigeon (flying would have been so much easier) but the old chap insisted on cats. I really don't understand why…

*3 Okay, well I didn't actually do that. Can you blame me for trying to make this story interesting for you? We, djinn, can't really alter the essence of which an object is made of; that would be against the rules. So I just conjured an aerosol can of spray paint, and worked my magic. The end result was just as convincing, I assure you.

*4 The screwed up expression could only be compared to what you'd expect a constipated monkey to look like. Need I say more?

*5 Yes ladies, Bartimaeus can be quite the sensitive figure…

*6 I frankly don't understand humans' obsession with alcohol. Then again, us djinn are on a superior intellectual level, so I guess expecting humans to be wary of basic poisons to the body is asking a little too much…

**B-B-B-B-B-B-B-B-B-B-B-B-B-B-B-B-B-B-B-B-B-B-B-B-B-B-B-B-B-B-B-B-B-B-B-B-B-B-B-B-B-B**

**Please don't forget to review this chapter guys! I don't even mind if they're negative!**

**Taigan out.**


	16. Chapter 16: Spelevis

**I'm very excited about this chapter! Thank you **_**Conception**_** (Your speculations are always VERY close to the truth, but not quite…), **_**Nari-nick**_** (I really enjoy dramatic entrances, which is why I use them so much. Anyways, in this chapter, I've pulled all the characters together, so don't worry, Kitty isn't far off!), **_**RenWrites**_** (The ring comes into play more soon. Also, I forgot to tell you what the name means. It's not French, but Latin. "Nex" means "death" and "Pontus" means "bridge". So basically it's a link between the realms of the dead and the living) and **_**Cocoacharm**_** (sorry about Clark not turning out the way you pictured him at first, I guess I'm to blame for the lack of description. But to be honest, at the start of the fanfic, I was completely unaware of his age too!). Your reviews are very kind and encouraging. Anyways, I guess we should get to the actual chapter. Hey ho, let's go!**

**S-S-S-S-S-S-S-S-S-S-S-S-S-S-S-S-S-S-S-S-S-S-S-S-S-S-S-S-S-S-S-S-S-S-S-S**

The sticky Plasm I shot at Bartimaeus did not kill him, even though that was what my master had ordered me to do. Murder is never an easy task to commit, and after getting to know Bartimaeus, it just got much more complicated. I can tell you, my juvenile master was quite displeased with my disobedience. But what was I supposed to do, stab a friend in the back *1?

"A Slumber Plasm?" he asked with a disgusted look on his face, "I charged you to kill him, not induce a harmless sleep."

"You never said exactly when I had to kill him," I replied, praying I wouldn't be exposed to the Shriveling Fire for my noncompliant behavior.

"No matter", he said casually, " Our Bartimaeus will suffer soon enough. Now we're really progressing through with the plan. All that we need is the activation code for the NexPontus Ring, and Bartimaeus will finally suffer for what he did. Justice will come and my master will finally be able to rest."

"What must I do now?" I asked weakly, "Perhaps it is safe to dismiss me, considering I've completed my task- well, sort of?"

Clark chuckled wickedly, "Not quite."

His words sent chills down my spine. For a mere human boy, he could be quite spiteful. I couldn't help but think that this lad really needed some friends, or maybe a new hobby. Perhaps I could introduce him to the Feline Fanatics *2. That would certainly set him straight. I played with these slightly disturbing thoughts in my mind before I was ripped back to reality as the boy cleared his throat loudly (which was rather rude). Maybe a lesson in manners would be vital too…

"You will follow me. And bring Bartimaeus with you," he ordered.

I looked down to the sleeping djinni's figure. His body was completely still, and through the translucence of the Plasm's snot-green skin, I saw his face, which was blissfully peaceful. I brushed the remorse aside. I was just doing what I had to in order to survive. Can you really blame me for that?

"Where are we going?" I asked blankly.

"To fetch Kathleen Jones, of course."

"Why?"

"She has the activation code of the NexPontus Ring…"

"How do you know that?"

"Why do you have so many questions?" he practically yelled. The drunken apprentices from behind us stirred from their trance-like state. I took the hint and remained silent. He sighed.

"Because of the note my master gave me just before he died. He handed me a scrap of paper, which spoke of the location of the NexPontus ring. But it didn't say how to work it." He pulled the said article from his back pocket. "Before my master was murdered, I noticed he was having more nightmares in his sleep. He always would call out a name. 'Kitty Jones', he said. 'Kitty Jones possesses the key'. I take it as no coincidence that this supposed Kathleen Jones was linked to a mid-level djinni names Bartimaeus, and so I made the connection that the last thing I needed to do so that my master would be satisfied was find her (for only she could have the last piece of the puzzle; the code), and use the ring. After that, I hope my master can return to us."

After this impressive, yet uncalled for speech, my mouth dropped open. I was utterly flabbergasted at the boy's ambitions; they were way out of his league. Was this kid crazy? Every magician knows not to meddle with the deceased, that's just like begging for a disaster to happen. I decided to speak my mind:

"Are you crazy? Every magician knows not to meddle with the deceased. That's just like begging for a disaster to happen. You can't possible be serious about all of this? How about we go home and get you tucked up with a nice warm glass of-"

"I will not be mocked, Spelevis!" I saw the hurt in his eyes; the willingness to believe that he actually wasn't out of his mind. He turned away, and I swear I saw a tear plummet to the floor. "Now go, it will take you longer to bring Bartimaeus to Kathleen Jones. I will meet you there…"

He walked away, leaving me alone with the bulging bubble of Ectoplasm that was Bartimaeus. I took him by the legs, and dragged him along *3. To make matters even worse, the rain started to fall. Drops of water trickled down my face, and I remember thinking that I would have preferred to be the one inside the odorous, yet protective, bubble.

Luckily, Kathleen Jones's shop was only a few blocks away. I didn't have to endure the perplexed stares of people for long as I dragged the lifeless Bartimaeus through the streets. The shop was just around another the corner when I heard a sudden crash. It sounded like the smashing of windows. Then came a woman's scream and an explosion that deafened me and thrust me backwards with irresistible force. I turned the corner, still dragging Bartimaeus along with me.

My young master was already there waiting; he looked at the shop with wide eyes. In the air, I smelt the faint aroma of an excited Afrit. The windows of the store had been blown out and a wall of the shop was left crumbling.

Four figures emerged from the smoke and ruins. One of them was dressed in a baggy cloak (which was obviously too big for her thin frame) and a dark cap. Another, a female djinni on the fifth plane, took the form of a snow-white Roc. The majestic bird of prey eyed us sorrowfully. Then came a towering creature, with dark scaly skin and alien eyes. In its arms, it held a lifeless Kitty Jones. The shadowy monster turned and smiled wickedly at us. A jet-black mist snaked from the creature's hands and engulfed the furtive congregation in an opaque hurricane.

When the flimsy fog cleared, they were gone. All that was left were the crackling flames that consumed Kitty's antique shop.

Why did things always have to be so dramatic?

**S-S-S-S-S-S-S-S-S-S-S-S-S-S-S-S-S-S-S-S-S-S-S-S-S-S-S-S-S-S-S-S-S-S-S-S**

*1 In fact, this was probably exactly what Clark had in mind, actually. Hmm, strange how that happens…

*2 The Feline Fanatics is a game invented by the Ancient Egyptians in honor of the cats that protected them from evil spirits. Basically, it involves a pit, deep enough to prevent anyone climbing out, a handful of hungry, wild cats, a couple of troublesome humans, and lots of running around. My old friend, Zillinger, knew a guy who lost ten pounds after surviving the _FF Pit_ (that's what we used to call it for short. It also sounds less like a sorry cat dress-up game invented by lonesome grandmothers when we use this nickname).

*3 May I just say that this was no easy feat. Someone really needs to learn how to slim down when changing forms….

**S-S-S-S-S-S-S-S-S-S-S-S-S-S-S-S-S-S-S-S-S-S-S-S-S-S-S-S-S-S-S-S-S-S-S-S**

**Please don't forget to review this chapter, guys. You know I really am obsessed with reading what you think!**

**Until next time!**

**Taigan out.**


	17. Chapter 17: Kitty Jones

**OK, I'm sorry for the long wait, readers! Thank you to RenWrites, Conception and Cocoacharm for reviewing my last chapter. You guys made my day. Anyways, I'm nearing the end of this fanfic, and that makes me quite sad, but for now, let's gets going and enjoy it while it lasts… Hey ho, let's go!**

**K-K-K-K-K-K-K-K-K-K-K-K-K-K-K-K-K-K-K-K-K-K-K-K-K-K-K-K-K-K-K-K-K-K-K-K-K-K-K-K-K-K-K**

When Kitty heard the crash, she didn't go to investigate. At least not straightaway, that is. Her initial thought was that she had to hide the book. No doubt the intruders were after it, and for now, she was certain she needed it more than they did. She scanned the "bedroom", before deciding to tuck it beneath one of the couches. Then she dusted herself off, and went to inspect the shop to find what had caused the ruckus, holding a baseball bat readily above her head. Although, she seriously doubted it would do much good.

"Who's there?" she called into the darkness. She heard someone, or something, shuffle from beyond the shadows. She might have concluded it was some wild animal, but thought otherwise due to the furtive whispers that ensued. There was a sudden crashing sound, so Kitty instinctively headed for a light switch and flicked it on, dropping the bat in the process. The dim glow from the lamp revealed the trespasser's faces and the shattered antiques they the criminals had clumsily knocked over. However, this was the very least of Kitty's concerns.

"Sorry about that," said one of them, slightly embarrassed.

"You!" Kitty said. She couldn't find the words to express her incredulity when she recognized the face.

"Who?"

"You!" Kitty pointed accusingly to the girl.

"Me?" she asked.

"Summer! Don't pretend you don't remember me!"

The girl, still dressed in dark clothes way too great for her, sighed and shrugged to her partner; a tall woman with an exotic face and cascading, blond hair.

"I guess there really isn't a point in trying to lie," she said, "Anyways, we're sorry for dropping in unannounced like this…"

"You broke in!" Kitty interrupted, beckoning to one of the smashed windows. Summer looked at it casually, as if it were the first time she noticed it.

"Oh, right" she shrugged again, " you could say that we broke in. But that would imply we had ill intentions, which I assure you was not the case. No! We only did that because we thought you might have been sleeping, and we didn't want to wake you…"

"You're going to have to do better than that!"

"Enough of this," said Summer's accomplice impatiently. Kitty looked up at her, unable to not admire the striking woman. She didn't have any particularly intimidating features, but Kitty sensed a powerful aura about her, something unnatural beneath the surface. When she gazed into the woman's purposeful eyes, all she wanted to do was run back to her mother's house and hide under her bed. But no: Kitty was not about to commit such foolishness, and so she decided to take charge of the situation. This was, after all, her shop; her territory.

"Who are you? What do you want?"

"I think you know," said the woman.

"See," Summer began, "when I was assigned to rob the stalls in Canterbury, I was ordered to bring any magical items that I found back; I wasn't told exactly which ones. So when you saved me from the Gimp-"

"The imp."

"Imp; right," responded Summer, slightly annoyed at being interrupted, "I handed you the book, hardly knowing what it was worth. My master was not at all happy when I told him how the book came to leave my possession, I can tell you that. It turns out he's been after it for years, and got word from an associate that he'd find it with the merchants. So now, Septoria and I have been ordered to come and retrieve it from you."

"Human, we don't have time," said the djinni, "if we're not out of here with the book soon, than Duardo will send…"

She was interrupted by a sudden blast from the back of the shop. Kitty turned to find the wall by the bedside had been blown down. Dust hung suspended in the air, but Kitty managed to spot an Afrit standing in the ruin's wake. In the sudden activity, all she could think about was how that stupid wall couldn't even stay up properly. Then she felt anger; the insensitive Afrit had smashed it to bits before she even had the chance. A need for revenge ignited inside of her.

"Duardo is tired of waiting," said the Afrit. Its voice was ice cold and sent chills running down Kitty's spine. The creature made a move towards them, and Kitty's stomach dropped in apprehension. What was she thinking? There was no way she could go up against an Afrit! Memories of Gladstone's sullen tomb and the wild Afrit trapped in the ruler's remains came flooding back to her. She had told her friends to be cautious, warned them that the corpses hidden behind the illusion meant trouble. She remembered the faces of her partners, their courage when facing the crazed Afrit, and their premature deaths.

"_Kitty, I'm scared," whispered Anne._

_And then she was taken, swallowed by the darkness. She didn't even have the chance to utter a goodbye, or even call out in pain. Kitty would never again see Anne's kind face, never again listen to her laugh, and never be able to watch her smile. _

No, thought Kitty to herself. She wasn't going to let this demon get her. She would hold it off, or dye trying.

"Please don't resist," said Septoria, a genuine sorrow in her voice, "just give us what we want, and let us be on our way."

"Okay." Kitty said to their surprise.

"Where is the book?" Summer asked.

"In the back room."

"Lead us to it."

Kitty led Summer, Septoria and the daunting Afrit to the back of the shop. She felt a cool breeze drift through the gaping hole in the wall, and vaguely thought that at least now she had a view. She moved to a cabinet, and pulled its doors open a fraction. Hidden beneath her clothes, was a ten-year old inferno stick, taken by the Resistance back when they had been committing petty thefts. Whether it would work or not, Kitty did not know, but she had to try it.

Gripping the stick by one end, she held it threateningly over her head. The Afrit seemed hardly worried by her abruptness. In fact, the demon actually laughed at her. How dare it be so mocking!

"Kitty don't do this," pleaded Summer.

"I'm sorry," she said, and tossed the stick towards the Afrit. In the seconds when the stick sliced through the air, many things happened. Firstly, the inferno stick, already years passed its expiration date, exploded seconds before it even made contact. A growing conflagration stared Kitty right in the face and lit the shop with a sudden flash. She felt the searing inferno lick at her face, and closed her eyes to brace herself. The last thought she had was of Bartimaeus, and how she wouldn't be able to say goodbye. The fire was just about to swallow her whole, when a glimmering gold shield materialized before her, and held the flames back. She noticed Summer had the same spherical shield glimmer around her as well. The Afrit, enraged by Septoria's protective actions over Kitty and Summer, sent a Charge hurtling towards Kitty, which knocked her out instantly. While this was happening, Summer was trying to extinguish the flames that now consumed the antique store. She didn't know why, but a profound guilt was taking control; Kitty had saved her life, and she couldn't bear to accept that this was the way she should be repaid.

"Move," ordered the Afrit to Septoria and Summer.

"Take the girl," Septoria said, "if we return empty handed, Duardo will skin us alive."

After taking the form of a Snow-white Roc, she pulled Summer away from the antiques. Most of them had been stacked in a bare corner of the shop, in hopes that they would be spared. Summer couldn't help but feel disgusted at her efforts. Tears ran down her eyes, but she refused to let the djinnis see, and wiped them away hastily.

The pressure from the explosion had incinerated even the glass windows at the front of the shop. Shards of glass crackled underneath their feet as they made their escape. The coldness enveloped them as they entered the bitter night. Before the Afrit sent a Telecurrane that would whisk them away to Duardo, Septoria spotted the face of her previous master's son, Clark, watching them disbelievingly from the crowd.

If only it didn't have to be this way.

**K-K-K-K-K-K-K-K-K-K-K-K-K-K-K-K-K-K-K-K-K-K-K-K-K-K-K-K-K-K-K-K-K-K-K-K-K-K-K-K-K-K-K**

**Please comment, even if you weren't quite impressed with the chapter. Thanks for reading this installment, and until next time…**

**Tagain out!**


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